


Dogs

by wanderingsmith



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Crack, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-12
Updated: 2009-01-12
Packaged: 2017-10-08 04:43:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingsmith/pseuds/wanderingsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>crackish bit of non-sense</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dogs

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to pay me for this. As it is thought, so let it be said; you make the toys, I play with 'em.

Jack walked into the infirmary, hoping the doc wouldn't make too much of a fuss about *how* he'd sprained his wrist.  The klaxon announcing SG-12's early return had caught him in a distracted moment; who the hell would have thought you even *could* sprain your wrist doing that?  Damned international forces exchanges anyway.

"*Four* very measly inches.  And THIN!"

He jerked to a stop, blinking in almost-shock as he stared at the back of Carter's head, seeing her fingers held up in a demonstration of the 'four' inches.  What the hell had he just walked into??  And why hadn't he known Sam was in the mountain?

"Err, doc?"  Jack raised his wrist to the short physician standing next to her, clearing his throat in what he hoped was a casual manner, "Little help here?"

Carter stood besides the bed he sat on and chatted with her friend while he silently got his digits tested for range of movement. When the doc finally agreed with his diagnosis of a mild sprain and went to get a bandage, he smirked, giving the blond angel in cammo almost brushing his shoulder a leering once-over and muttering in a low voice, "So.  Four inches aren't enough?"

She didn't even blush, grinning at him, "No.  Not to mention that a hot dog should definitely be thicker than my finger.  Sir."  She flexed her index suggestively.

Jack's eyes smoldered at both the mental images she was encouraging, lips parted on a very faint grin, "Really. Requirement is it, major?"

"Ummhumm," Sam leaned over, pretending to look more closely at his wrist for the benefit of the watching cameras but bringing her lips to an inch of his ear to whisper, "'Course, I'm a lot more demanding of cocks.  *They* have to be attached to a body I adore." She grinned with self-satisfaction, seeing his nose flare and watching the slow blink of lids that suddenly drooped a bit.  Reducing Jack O'Neill to this slow-thinking, gravely-voiced state was always a pleasure.

"Adore?"

She grinned wider, yup, there wasn't much she wouldn't do to hear *that* voice.  Especially after being away on a lonely exchange stay at CFB Trenton for two very long, very boring weeks.  She nodded firmly and, hearing Janet coming back, she started to plan what she could do with an injured colonel when she broke into his house in a few hours, "Adore."

Jack dragged his thoughts out of the gutter, clearing his throat before he gave them away, "Strange tastes you have."  Adoring *his* beat up, *old* carcass? Sometimes he had to wonder about Samantha's brilliance.

**Author's Note:**

> [The hot dogs](http://www.tasteto.com/author/mary-luz). and the canadian forces base in Trenton is within easy lunch distance of Picton


End file.
